The Girl of the Back Alley
by Edesina
Summary: AU. At the age of 13 Sei ran away from orphanage. At the age of 15 she's an excellent prostitute in Moscow. Sei/OMC, Sei/OFC, eventually Sei/few Marimite girls. Darkfic&romance and so many warnings that can't list them here. Full summary inside
1. Trailer: Willow

**Author:** Edesina  
Beta: none but if someone wants to be, PM me  
**Rating: M** (see the warnings below)

**Pairings:** In the first parts Sei/Gospoldin, Sei/OMC, Sei/OFC, later Sei/few Marimite girls  
**Characters**: Sei & OMC (Gospodin) in the first parts, the rest of gang will be introduced later.  
**Genre:** AU, Angst, Darkfic, Romance, Drama, Fluff…  
**Summary:** _"My name is Willow. Nice to meet you. I'm 14 years old and I work as a prostitute."_

**Disclaimer:** If Marimite was mine underage people wouldn't have heard of it.  
**Warnings**: Prostitution, foul language, kinky sex, sex between a kid and adult, abuse and dub-con, alcohol, drugs, cross-dressing and other things I forgot to mention or can't mention because they would be spoilers to the latter parts.

**A/N**: Thanks to **conventgirlvampire** who suggested a prequel or sequel to my story "_Lacey Domination_". I love the settings of that… well, PwP it is. This fic is years before and after. Just to warn you, this is quite dark. When I started this, it was supposed to be just a one-shot but I got carried away and… And since I started this, I decided to do the whole set (trailer, prologue, chapters, epilogue). I have written first chapters in first person narrative and then I switch to third person narrative. I just don't think I can write about Sei's past if I use my usual style.

Also, there are few Russian, German, Finnish and/or Swedish words (I know a handful of curses and other… not so nice words). Translations will be at the end of the chapter.

* * *

_**The Girl of the Back-Alley**_

* * *

_Trailer: Willow

* * *

_

_You say you love me? That has to be a lie because the moment you learn the truth about my past you will run away. I'm a girl who has seen more than you could even if you lived hundred years. The reason why I don't have nightmares is because I lived in one. Freezing winters didn't break me, ruthless abuse didn't leave more than barely visible scars on me. I was willow; I bent but didn't break down.  
__Never.  
__You broke my soul, my resolve to not to fall in love with anyone._

_When I am with you, the silent whisper keeps bugging me. Can I be loyal to only one person? I don't know. Yet for your sake I can try. I can keep going on, keep running away from my past, my faults and mistakes._

_Do you believe in destiny or miracles? I don't, which is why I can't believe that you like me. I am a wandering ghost of human. I've done so many bad things – which I still don't regret – that I've lost my right to be called 'a human'. Humans have soul and a soul mate. If I'm not a human, I don't have a soul and therefore I cannot have a soul mate. A person who can accept all my faults and support me. Someone who stays after meeting my true self._

_Have you heard the story of angel who had flown too close the sun? She lost her wings and died shortly after that. I am the sun, come too close and you'll be consumed by my burning darkness. In the end you will end up hurting yourself. It's bound to happen._

_So, if you can, listen to my story to the very end. It's not something I'm proud of but it's the life I have led until I met one angel. That angel was hurt because of me. And I knew it would happen. I didn't do anything to stop her because I wanted a moment of happiness._

* * *

_To be continued_

A/N2: Just a teaser here. I probably can't update weekly at least not until I've finished my other story. Still, reviews would be nice ^^


	2. The Land of Thousands of Woeful Songs

**A/N: **First, thanks you for reviewing, **conventgirlvampire**. I know it's hard to say anything yet. I hope this chapter meets the expectations :)

Okay, I've used lyrics from the song "_Tuhansien murheellisten laulujen maa_"by Eppu Normaali (The land of thousands of woeful songs in English) which must be one of the best Finnish songs ever. In a nutshell it's about a man who wanted to avoid the "traditional destiny of men". He didn't want to use all of the money on booze and beat his kids/wife. Too bad he drank… I've translated the lyrics of the song by myself, they're not the original. You'll see parts of them in the text.

**A set of notes here too:** Turmiolan Tommi is a fictional character in Finland. He was an extreme example of Finnish man (=drunkard and violent) made by sobriety activists in 1858.

Also nice to know about the family names mentioned in the text:

Järvinen where järvi = a lake  
Mäkinen where mäki = a hill  
Virtanen where virta= a flow

Kilju is one of home-made alcoholic drinks in Finland. And it's cheap, making 10 litres would cost about 7 USD.

Welcome to Finland ^^ Most of things are pure fictional.

* * *

_**Prologue: The Land of Thousands of Woeful Songs**_

* * *

_Home? It's a distant dream. I had a place I called "home"– but it was long ago. Little kids live in their homes with their (not so) caring parents. Mine certainly did give a damn though my home was not a safe place. A shattered nightmare, that's it. Strong abuses weak, there are no saints in the real word. _

_That was the word I grew up.  
__And that was the lesson I had to learn in order to survive._

I was born in the dark, cold, northern land. My mother was a Laplander and my father was a Japanese. How these two met is a mystery. They got married and I was born. I got my father's name, Satou. Mother kept her own name because of the irony of it. Her Family name was "Lappalainen" which meant Laplander.

Mother said that the night I was born the Northern lights were really bright. It's an old belief that it meant an adventurous life. There's nothing romantical in the Northern lights because they meant that hell froze. I lived in the Lapland so Northern lights were a common occurrence in my childhood until we moved to the east. It was still fucking cold during the winter. There were nights when the temperature dropped below - 40 degrees and Northern lights burned clearly in distance.

My father was a Japanese so he complained even if it was just – 10 or so. Mom just laughed and asked if he would come with us to a morning swimming. He always refused but sometimes he came to watch when "crazy Finns" pummeled a hole in the ice with an axe and swam there. We couldn't swim long distances, only about ten meters at the most. When I got back to the snowy wharf, my skin tingled and I felt extremely warm for a moment.

When I look back to those times I get the feeling that father hated our country and unforgiving nature. We lived in a small village where most of people were still peasants. My mother loved the life - as did I. I loved the stubborn old men who chopped wood in front of small red shed. They smoke pipes and told stories of Second World War. Their sons hunted bears, elks and rabbits and we cooked them together.

_In this Nordic and cold country  
where already the ancestors, drunken of course  
beat wives, children if they got caught  
_

Barbarians, my father said. He was one of the few people who worked in a nearby saw mill. He had a good position and he earned a lot unlike my mom. Mom picked berries and mushrooms in the autumn and she was skilled at knitting. In a sense we were really old-fashioned; we traded as much as possible, we had to buy only electronics, some clothes, extra-flour and exotic fruits. Women and kids baked every Saturday and cleaned the houses. We didn't buy stuff like bread, milk, meat, vegetables or apples. The Mäkinens had cows, the Virtanens had hectares of fields and the Järvinens grew potatoes, carrots and turnips. And we shared them all.

In other words we lived outside the rest of the country, in the past. Our community was about 100 people large and we knew each other really well. The nearest big city had less than 1 000 residents. A bus went back and forth twice a month. Though some of us (like father) had cars so we could go there if we had to.

Because my father wasn't satisfied with a simple life, he had to get some spice in his life from somewhere else. I think it's a twist of fate that he got interested in distillation. Men made kilju, a home-made spirits made of sugar, yeast and water. Sometimes they added cranberries or blueberries.

We kids stole that drink a couple of times but every time it tasted horrible and we couldn't drink it. My father adapted to the Finnish culture and drank it like water. He was rarely sober which pained my mother and was the reason behind countless fights. Sometimes he beat us, sometimes only me and forced mom to watch.

"Turmiolan Tommi comes back to alive again…" mom used to whisper and pull me to a tight hug then. She meant that father was slowly becoming an alcoholic and we couldn't do anything to stop him. At that time he was also becoming more violent. We used to run away from him when he returned to home stinking of alcohol.

_Conventional man's fate  
wanted to avoid that boy  
I never buy an ax,  
I never drink liquor  
otherwise drink I us out of house  
_

On a quite warm spring morning he returned to home at six in the morning. Mother had waited for him the whole night. I know because I watched her. She had cried because she was afraid that father wouldn't return. She knew that father hated our home so she thought that father had left. And despite all his faults mom loved him deeply.

When he finally came, he hit mom. He didn't even bother to greet her. Mother was shocked, and then she grabbed my arm and led me to the back-door. Father didn't follow us, he never did. Yet mom led me to the awakening forest. Away from him.

Here and there was still white flecks but mostly may green grass had covered the ground. The earliest wood anemones were already blossoming. They were a bit late, though, because of the cold winter that had left its marks. Trees had lost branches and moss hadn't absorbed all of the water because snow had melted quickly.

"Mama, wait!" My eyes widened when I realized what the small brown thing ahead was. A cub! I stopped but my mom continued running, she just turned around to look at me. I heard an angry roar before I could do anything.

"_When you are in the forest in the spring never go near a cub. The mommy bear is always close by and it'll kill without hesitation, Sei."_

"MOTHER!"

_So Turmiolan Tommi comes alive again  
and the lord's behavior rubs off to hind_

_towards the liquor store canters he_

* * *

_****The Girl of the Back-Alley****_

* * *

I never imagined my father could be so _Finn._ After my mother's funeral he drank more and more. I don't remember anything about the time between my mother's death and funeral. Human mind is such a fine thing, all of my pain-filled memories were completely erased.

Father blamed himself for killing my mother. It's understandable because he killed her. If he hadn't beaten mom, she wouldn't have to run away. I blamed him too, as did few other women in the village. And because of that guilt he couldn't face the reality sober. He drank days and nights. Actually he drank so often that we became complete strangers. He didn't know that I spent most of days at the wise one's house. Wise one was an old woman whose hair had turned silver long before I was born. She knew everything about forests, berries, herbs, poisonous plants… She taught me to be her successor. We walked in the forest in summer and winter.

I didn't know when my father lost his job, one day he just stayed home. And on the next one. And again on the next one.

"I don't need to go there, kid," he muttered during one of his almost-sober moments. In other words he managed to utter words. In those days I gave him a hangover medicine I made. And I became quite good at making it. Willow bark and dandelion. That was all it required.

The whole village was waiting for something to happen. It was in the air, a bomb to be dropped. There were times when no one dared to breath, so intense the feeling was. Nothing happened until one sunny June day.

I went to forest with the wise one to look for nettles. We spent there the whole day because nettles were still small so we needed a lot of them. I collected a basketful as did she and finally we returned back to village. The sound of ambulance greeted us a lot before we could see the car and somehow I knew. Father.

"He needs to be examined in the hospital, kid," the driver said when I had asked what happened. "You're allowed to get in but I think it'd be better if you stayed here."

"But I'd like to come, please," I begged. My inner strength, eye, whatever, told me that if I didn't go, I'd never see him again. Of course I had heard the quiet whispers. My dad was going to drink himself to death. Maybe he had already succeeded.

It was painfully funny but I realized that he meant a lot to me only when I knew I would lose him. Up to now I had hated him, blamed him for killing mom and being always under the influence of alcohol. All the bitter hatred I felt towards him got erased.

"Ah… okay," the man said and motioned to get in the car.

* * *

_****The Girl of the Back-Alley****_

* * *

We drove for hours. The doctor with us said that we had to go to place called Töölö, wherever that was. I had never heard of it before. There was better equipment so father had chance to live a little bit longer. When the men realized what they had said they looked guilty.

Father was dying. I knew it. I'd go to an orphanage like Mika, a friend of mine whose parents died in a blizzard. They had been in shelter but in a cave that was wolf nest. Mika lived far away so I hadn't heard of him since then.

_This tragic land of thousands of songs  
whose thousands of lakes may run  
Juniperish nation whose self-pity  
don't measure sanity nor Kärki's the boss  
in whose songs drowns life's trump cards  
and closed gates of heaven stay  
Of Einari Despair  
they tell_

* * *

_****The Girl of the Back-Alley****_

* * *

Dark alleys had been my home since I ran away from an orphanage at the age of thirteen. Nothing separated me from other kids, they were all like me. Young, dirty thieves who were able to steal, cheat and do dirty jobs in order to survive. We were drug dealers or "vultures"- the ones who got rid of killed people. Sometimes we fed the corpses to dogs or buried them after we had taken everything that wasn't fastened with nails.

Clothes were re-used, hair was sold to wig makers, and in the rare occasion we found any, coins were used on food. When we were starving, we ate humans. No one dared to ask if that was inhuman. It was a bare necessity. Why should the body care about it?

Some of us were captured by polices. They were sent to psychiatrists and we never heard of them again. Not that we cared, only the best were allowed to live. I was strong yet resilient like willow. I got used to the new situations, which was essential in order to survive.

"Willow" that was my nickname back then, when I met three men in black. Everyone used black but these men had this special aura around them. They were dangerous, outsiders. Language was full of weird sounds and slang words. They spoke so fast that I couldn't quite understand it. Yet I knew the essential words… I lived near the eastern borderline so I had learnt Russian.

"What's your name, little blyad?"The tallest man asked and leaned closer. Somehow I got a feeling he was assessing me, giving me value.

"Willow," I replied carefully. My throat was dry, filled with sand of fear. These men reeked dangerous, malicious.

"Your _real_ name, grelka?" the man in the middle asked, his eyes were blue as ice I had skated on when I was younger. Those eyes reminded me of my past, a dream that had shattered when my parents had died.

"Sei. And what's with the name-calling?" Oops, I guess I shouldn't have talked back. Words just slipped. Men looked at me, their expressions were as flat as glass, yet glass reflected a shape. Those cold eyes were… empty, no emotion or whatsoever. Nothing I could use against them.

They spoke Russian again. Their accent differs from Nat's accent. She's a friend of mine who taught me Russian.

After what seemed an eternity the tallest one kneeled in front of me. Our eyes met, my cold ones and his freezing. I refused to show him that I was scared, it was no good. He was the type who didn't know what mercy was. Not that I showed mercy either. It was something luxury, out of my world.

"I like you, little Willow. You've got guts. We could be friends, no?" he grinned showing his white teeth like a predator.

"Well…" I needed some time to think. Of course friendship wouldn't be for free. Take nothing for granted except that everyone wants something, that was the law of the alleys. Straightforwardness was usually a good thing, too. I switched to Russian: "What are the benefits and what do you want from me?"

He laughed, dry, hoarse laughter which reminded me of sawing. That was the voice which could be heard in nightmares if I wasn't too hardened to have them. I didn't see nightmares when I slept for I always slept with one eye open. Let your guard down and you're dead.

"I don't get why you'd want her, she talks back," the shortest one opened his mouth for the first time. Yet the tallest waved him away.

"Well, I want to have you work for me, that's all."

"As a vulture?"

"Njet, I want you to be mine so I can use you any way I want," he grinned.

"I see… And what would I get?" So basically he wanted to keep me as his little toy he could fuck anytime. And if I refused, well… Let's say that I wouldn't' have to worry about surviving in the next winter.

"Shelter, food, education, money and clothes," that list sounded really good. "Oh, and as much vodka as you can drink."

"We have a deal." His offer was good and being a prostitute was better than a vulture. Anything was better than living at the streets because Finnish winter wasn't the romantic view that was printed on the postcards. In reality winter nights were freezing – temperature could drop below -30 degrees and I didn't even live far north. The temperature, lack of shelter and food were the reasons why winter killed so many of us.

"Good," the man sounded satisfied. "Call me Gospoldin."

* * *

To be continued

**A/N2**: Yeah, this chapter was boring as hell but I had to write it. It explains necessary stuff from Sei's past quite well. Also, I'd like to know if it's annoying that I've used Russian here. I won't go to the orphanage details yet. It's not essential right now.

**Translations: **(Russian)

Gospoldin – Master  
blyad – slut  
grelka – wench  
njet - no


	3. Innocent Little Girl

**A/N:** Okay, here's the worst part of the story: the Era of Gospoldin. This is the part is abuse, prostitution, S&M, kinky sex and blow-jobs. In other words everything I prefer ^^ My goal is to write as many un-normal sex scenes in this fic as possible ^^ If you want to read about something special, tell me.

**Conventgirlvampire, **Sei has still ways to that girl who she is in Lacey. I've got still few things left for her. I know the chapter dragged but and originally I had only that Gospoldin part written but… Then I thought that maybe leaving it that way I'd leave out some essential parts.

So let's begin the PWP part ^^

* * *

Chapter 1: Innocent Little Girl

* * *

_Feelings? They aren't edible therefore feeling something was useless. Emotions were just in the way so I shielded myself, trained myself to feel nothing. It took years, but that's me now. I'm' emotionless, I care for no one except me. If killing you would grant me what I wanted, you were dead. I take nothing for granted, yet I believe that everything will be alright. I have to. Otherwise living would be too painful. _

_Good girls are made of cinnamon, cardamom and strawberries. The riddle says so, not that it's something believable. Humans bleed no matter how good they are. Still, if I was better, would everything ended that way?_

_I was all but a good girl… Maybe that's why he resented me…  
And he… I killed him._

Gospoldin never told me his real name. I soon learned what his name meant since my Russian skills improved explosively. After a while I spoke almost fluently Russian without even forgetting my natives; Japanese and Swedish. He also made sure that I studied endlessly both English and Finnish – the first was a language I had grasped on the streets and the latter was official language I spoke fluently but knew nothing of the grammar. And to be honest, I hated grammar.

Fuck the Finns I thought when I tried to conjugate even the simplest words like water. 15 different cases and another set for "waters". And of course the word was irregular! Gospoldin didn't even Finnish and he always spoke of moving to Moscow. Gospoldin also made sure that I learnt mathematics, history, geology, biology and other subjects save the religion.

"You can choose yourself what do you want to believe in," he said when I asked about it. That was part of his charm - he gave me freedom but also extremely strict rules. I was blyad, a slut to the core. He taught me flirting, pouring vodka (which was The Drink, I had to make sure that we always had vodka) and dancing. He taught me waltz and tango but also strip-tease and pole dance. I learned quickly, otherwise he hit me.

Because some men liked to be dominative, I was forced to endure pain and humiliation. Gospoldin took me in the public toilet, forced me on my knees and whipped me, used all kinds of toys… List was endless. I did my first blow-job at the age of twelve – before I ran away and began my street-life but now I did them as a daily routine. Gospoldin took me almost daily. It was part of the training but the first time is something I cannot forget.

It hurt like hell. When he kicked my gut and ripped my clothes off I was so scared that I wasn't able to move an inch. That was the only time I was afraid of death. I know that when two people have anal sex, the one who's top should do some preparations but Gospoldin just pushed himself inside me. He moved inside me and gripped my hair and pulled it every time I dared to groan in pain.

"Get up," he ordered when he was done. I obeyed, wincing because of pain. That was when my hatred towards butt sex sparkled. Blood strains coloured my pale legs and I hoped that nothing was ruptured. "And don't care about the blood, you're in-experienced so it's normal."

I nodded, I was fully aware of it. No one had ever entered by the back way before. This new life of mine may sound horrible but I was happy. It was winter and the temperatures were below minus 20 degrees in Celsius. In other words if I was still working in the streets I'd be dead or dying.

I had nothing to complain, not even when Gospoldin said that I'd have to get ready for a group of four a month later. He told me that he had promised that those four could use me as much as they like.

The first of them was a Finnish woman. Suvi-Tuuli - that was her name. Even I understood what her name means. Who'd want a name that means spring breeze? Still, I have to admit that it is a beautiful name. Better than mine at least. My childhood was ruined when father had given me Japanese name that meant _saithe_. It's a fucking fish!

Anyway, back to Suvi-Tuuli. She was 29 and the only woman in the group. There were two Japanese men, Haru and Natsu. They were brothers, older was 33 and younger, Natsu, 31. And the last one was a German. His name was Robert and he was ancient, even older than Gospoldin. He was 68.

_**The Girl of the Back-Alley**_

The day they arrived came pretty soon. The familiar nervousness knot grew inside me. What if I wasn't good enough? I was replaceable, just a tool to my master. He got money when others used me. Sometimes I also received a little tip. He let me keep the money and said that it was mine because I had earned it on my own.

"Willow, come here," Gospoldin called on the day. I gulped and glanced at the mirror for the last time. Reflection of a pale fourteen year old girl looked at me. She had shoulder-long sand coloured hair. A mini-skirt showed slender legs and school-girl uniform licked my body. I know I wasn't really developed but cute outfit had proved to be attractive. It made men – and sometimes women – literally drool.

I had only a little make-up, eye liner and mascara highlighted my grey eyes and sweet light pink lipstick made my lips look fragile. That was a brilliant idea, people wanted to see fragility. They regretted something so when they saw an angel-like me, all dressed in white, they took me. Stained me, wanted to break the fragility and then they were mine. I was able to play with them, make them do anything for me.

Smiling like an angel I flitted to my master. _'Be innocent, Sei,_' I reminded myself. These people wanted to have an innocent schoolgirl, not a dominating devil. I have pretty large eyes which make me look younger and innocent. The Japanese twins' jaws dropped and the woman eyed me hungrily. Only the old man was un-affected.

"You called, master?" I almost singed and gave a curious look to every one of the four. "Are these friends you yours, master?"

"Yes, they are. I want you to keep company to them."

"Sure," I smiled happily. That was of course fake but they weren't able to tell it.

"So, Willow was your name, nicht wahr?" the old man asked and I smiled innocently even though I knew he knew the truth. The old ones always knew.

"Das stimmt, mein Herr," I verified with my weak German skills. Still he almost smiled, which meant that he approved my attempt. Because he was the oldest, he was allowed to use me first. It's some kind of unwritten rule that old bastards take me first and then women – if they wanted - and young men last. I let him lead me to his room while Gospoldin led the other to a glamorous salon and served drinks. I heard a click when the man locked the door.

"Okay, now little Willow, come here." I did as I was told. This man was rich, otherwise Gospoldin wouldn't have let him use me. He let his trousers to fall to the floor revealing black boxers. I waited not knowing if he wanted to take them off by himself or not. Finally he did it.

I was little surprised when he wanted me to do only a blow-job, not that I complain. What I like about blow-jobs most is that it doesn't take much time.

I licked the sensitive skin. Every single moan was a victory. It's an amazing feeling, you know that you can make big men cry, you have power over them. I was kneeling in front of him and had his cock in my mouth. Yet I was the one who had the power. He tried to push himself deeper, get more pleasure but I refused keeping him a bit away.

The old man was on the edge, just few seconds and gentle touches before I recognized the bitter taste.

_**The Girl of the Back-Alley**_

Suvi-Tuuli had unpacked her luggage and the room was filled with costumes. No matter where I looked I saw lace, leather or both. Dresses, tuxedos, medieval clothes, role clothes…

'_Just how many packages did she have?' _I thought when I realized that I had seen only some of these dresses before. Gospoldin has a wide selection of clothes. He likes cat-girls and fox-boys. Well, everyone has their own taste.

"What should we play together?" she chirped happily while grinning like cheshire cat. "I know, you wear this."

She gave me a pink silk dress that had more white lace than actual fabric. In the same set was a headband, the one that French maids often wore. It was also pink and white and someone had attached later cat-ears to it. Last but not the least was a pair of shoes.

"Okay," I said and changed in the next room. This Finnish woman was one of_ those_. She liked role plays, probably bondage and sadism, too. Luckily it was an unwritten rule that only the master was allowed to harm the prostitute. Therefore Suvi-Tuuli couldn't leave more than cuts.

"Willow-kitty? Are you ready?"

"I'm coming~" I adjusted the headband for the last time and gave a small wink to my reflection.

I had kinda expected to see Catwoman in the black leather suit but she had a plain light blue dress with sky blue bows in long sleeves. It fitted her figure, tall and pale as she was. Her hair was dark brown and she let the curls fall on her shoulders. She was like the women I could see in the streets. Normal.

"So, little Willow, shall we drink tea?" I blinked a couple of times before meowing softly. She seemed satisfied and I purred gently.

She poured tea for both of us and motioned to sit in front of her. When I did, she wrapped her arms around me and bit my ear. _Tea? Year, right._

I shifted to more comfortable position giving her better access to my right ear and neck. Her touches were gentle yet she left marks. At this moment I was hers and she wanted to make sure that the next one knew it.

A light blue scarf was tied around my head and – surprisingly - it was perfect blindfold. Suvi-Tuuli had bought good quality because the colour wasn't something Gospoldin used. He used strong and dramatic colours like blood-red and emerald green, also Russian flag's colours were his favourites.

My world turned completely black and all I could do was to have faith in her, an unknown person.

She sat up and I felt her moving a little. I listened to any possible voices. A quiet 'pop' and then she sat back next to me. I jumped a little when I felt something cold and soft on my skin. She put the thing on my stomach, breasts, neck and lips. I managed to taste the thing and I almost burst out laughing. It was whipped cream. She was going to do the classic, not that anyone hadn't ever done that in my presence before. She poured sticky thing on me too. My wild guess is chocolate sauce.

I gasped when she licked the cream on my stomach. Her tongue did circles, danced on my ribs. I let out moans, cries and pleas. She wanted to hear me crying so I let her. If I do well, I might earn few Euros and it's not like I don't enjoy touches and caresses. It's just that they don't turn me on, never had and the day they do, I quit. Feelings like pleasure aren't necessary to please someone; on the contrary, they are dangerous.

"Please…" I whispered desperately. "I can't… agh!"

_**The Girl of the Back-Alley**_

Haru and Natsu wanted to share me so I was on all fours when they had fun with me. I hated and enjoyed it at the same time.

The pain when Natsu put two fingers in me to make the preparations. When he pushed himself in me I didn't feel unbearable pain. Of course it hurts but I almost enjoyed the feeling. The stronger the pain was, the more alive I was. To feel pain meant that I was alive, I was a person.

_I needed it._

At the same time I licked the Haru's manhood. He was hardening and my tongue circled the skin and my hands caressed his balls. He moaned and used my shoulders to hold himself up. His nails pierced my skin easily leaving sore scratches on my skin.

Natsu moved back and forth inside me and he made me to stretch. He was rough, almost as violent as Gospoldin and he kept me still. My muffled moans and his loud ones blended into one. Haru joined to our choir when I took him in my mouth and swallowed his erection. He pushed deeper before I could stop him. My throat was burning and black holes appeared gnawed my vision. When Natsu got his and pulled away, only experience kept from collapsing.

Haru came soon after his brother and bitter mixture of tears, cum and saliva covered my lips and jaw. I coughed up cum, soon the floor in front of me was in desperate need of cleaning. Men left me and I curled up. When the tears fell down my cheeks I knew that I had no way I could talk tomorrow.

* * *

**A/N2:** One more chapter of Gospoldin Era. Too bad, I liked especially that femslash pairing. But honestly, nothing happened in that chapter. I can't wait to get into the story ^^

**Translations: **

nicht wahr – right? (German)  
Das stimmt, mein Herr – That's true, Mister (Ge)


End file.
